


New Worlds for the Weary

by simonetta



Series: It’s Only a Change of Time [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 14:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7109707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simonetta/pseuds/simonetta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes Bellamy and Clarke a little while to figure out what they knew all along. </p><p> </p><p>Companion piece to 'The Stars Up Above, Directionless and Drifting' and the second installment of the 'Its Only a Change of Time' series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Worlds for the Weary

**Author's Note:**

> Companion piece to "The Stars up Above, Directionless and Drifting." It could probably function as a stand alone, but is designed to compliment the previous work. 
> 
> Part II of the "Its Only a Change of Time" series 
> 
> Title is from Josh Ritter's 'Change of Time'

The nightmares weren’t new. Not really. Clarke couldn’t even remember a time when sleep didn’t bring all of her demons and fears and mistakes out from the dark corners of her mind. At this point they all blended together; TonDC, Mt. Weather, Polis. Faces and places and levers drowned her in dread until she saw a familiar freckled face covered in blood with hollow, dead eyes and jolted out of sleep. 

For a while it was easier to deal with. When you are awake for more than twelve hours at a time trying to figure out how to stop an AI from turning everyone you know and love into zombies, exhaustion keeps the nightmares at bay. Clarke even managed to last through the first night after destroying ALIE, her wearied body and mind dragging her into a heavy, dreamless sleep. 

Once they were back at Arkadia and living in tents, however, it wasn’t so easy to sleep again. The first night back, Clarke woke up suddenly, barely containing a scream that had been building in her throat. She was sweaty and her threadbare sheets were tangled around her legs. On nights like this back when she was alone, wandering the woods with little will to live; she would get up and keep moving. The less she slept the more exhausted she was and the easier it was to avoid seeing the faces of the dead swimming in her mind. 

She wasn’t lost in the woods anymore, though. 

With a deep sigh, Clarke tried to steady her breathing and rearranged herself on the cot. Every now and then she could feel panic rising in her throat and gripped her blankets so hard it hurt. 

The next morning Raven told her she looked like hell. It figured, she hadn’t sleep at all trying to avoid that very place. 

As the heavy darkness of night blanketed Arkadia for a second time since the return from Polis, Clarke woke with a start once more. This dream had been particularly harrowing, but for reasons that had nothing to do with Mt. Weather or Lexa or the impending extinction of the human race. Before she could stop herself, Clarke stumbled out of her tent and towards the one across from her. She hesitated only a moment before pushing the flap aside and slipping in. 

Bellamy was fast asleep, curled away from her with his back rising and falling steadily. The sight calmed Clarke’s pounding heart; pushed some of the lingering images of him being tortured in the throne room back in Polis, slowly killed because she wouldn’t give up the access code, from her eyes. 

In the back of her mind, Clarke knew she should leave. She could see Bellamy, she had been reassured her dream was just a dream and that here, in reality, he was very much alive and safe. Perhaps it was the disturbing way her nightmare had felt so very real or just the chill of the night seeping into her bones, but for whatever reason Clarke couldn’t bring herself to go back to her own tent. 

Quietly, she slipped her boots off and slid onto Bellamy’s cot. Figuring she had gone this far already, Clarke barely hesitated before pressing herself against his back, wrapping and arm around his thick torso and touching her nose to the back of his neck to breathe in the deep scent that was so distinctly Bellamy. She sensed him stirring beneath her and felt a bit guilty. 

“Clarke?” 

Swallowing hard at the deep gravel of his sleep-laden voice, Clarke met Bellamy’s eyes as he turned in her arms. His bare chest radiated heat where their bodies touched. 

“I couldn’t sleep, I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“‘S okay,” he murmured sleepily. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Clarke thought about the way he had demanded she not save him in her dream; about the way his blood pooled and his eyes lost their light. She pulled him even closer to her, pressing her face into his collarbone. “No.” 

His arms tightened around her body, his cheek dropping to the top of her head, and for the first time in ages Clarke Griffin felt at peace. It wasn’t long before Bellamy’s breathing evened out again. Smiling against his skin, Clarke let herself drift off into sleep as well, no longer worried about what demons emerged from the dark. 

When she woke in the morning, her legs were tangled in Bellamy’s and at some point in the night they had shifted so she lay heavy on his chest. A large, warm hand was carding through her messy hair, another drawing lazy circles on her hip where her shirt had ridden up in the night. 

“Better?” 

Clarke looked up without letting her head leave its spot on Bellamy’s chest. “Yeah, thanks for letting me force myself into your bed.” 

He wasn’t looking at her, his eyes were closed but there was a ghost of a smile on his chapped lips. “Anytime, Clarke. Now shut up and go back to sleep. We have the day off and I don’t really feel like moving.” 

Clarke really put in a valiant effort to sleep in her own bed after that. Every night she told herself she would do it; she would make it through until morning even if she woke up gasping with her heart in her throat. Every night she utterly failed in this endeavor. Clarke wasn’t too proud to admit she was a bit broken. She also had enough medical training to understand how the trauma she’d been through was affecting her both mentally and physically and Bellamy seemed to be the only thing that helped. Even so, she kept telling herself that she would wean herself off finding comfort in his bed. It wasn’t like she was blind to what their nocturnal activities would imply to any witnesses. Nevertheless, Bellamy’s bed was quickly becoming her bed as well.

Occasionally Bellamy sought her out first. The first time it happened Clarke woke up against his chest, his heart beat erratic under her cheek. Peering up in the darkness Clarke blinked the sleep from her eyes and took in his haggard expression and the distant pained look in his eye. 

“You okay?”

He nodded, clearly not trusting himself to speak. Vaguely, Clarke had known Bellamy had nightmares too. His recent panic attacks and the tremor that had developed in his left hand were enough of an indication of how much recent events had affected his state of mind; it was only natural to assume he had nightmares as well. This was the first time she had really seen the effects of them though, and it twisted something painfully deep in Clarke’s chest. 

“Hey,” she murmured, much more awake now. “You’re okay. You are here, with me.” His jaw set in a familiar way and Clarke reached up to cup his cheeks. “Bellamy?” 

Finally he looked at her, his hands tightening where they held her against him enough to bruise. “I just want to sleep, Clarke.” 

“I know.” 

“I can’t- the things I’ve done, they-”

“It’s okay, Bellamy. I know.” 

He was quiet for a moment and Clarke listened to the way their breathing seemed to be in sync. 

“Why aren’t you afraid of me? After all I’ve done, why do you let me hold you like this?” Bellamy’s voice was so quiet and so broken that something burned in Clarke’s throat. 

“I let you hold me like this and I always sneak into your bed because it’s the only way I can sleep, Bellamy. I don’t know why you are so convinced I should be afraid of you when the only time I really feel safe is when we are like this.” She was pressed so close to him now that Clarke could feel him swallow. “I will always trust you. You’re my best friend, you idiot. Now shut up and go to bed.” 

Clarke felt a tear drop onto her nose from where it fell off the sharp edge of his jaw. Impulsively, she pressed a chaste kiss to the freckled skin just above his heart and waited until she felt him slip into sleep before closing her own eyes. 

It was a few weeks later when she finally brought it up in the dead of night, pressed close to him. “Have you noticed how Monty is always awake in the middle of the night?” 

“You mean how he watches us? Yes.” 

Clarke pushed her head up unto her elbow and looked up at Bellamy, his eyes impossibly darker in the shadowy night. “I tried talking to him once, but he didn’t want to. He just said he couldn’t sleep.” 

Bellamy was quiet for a moment, his hand combing through her hair in way that was familiar and second nature even after weeks of sharing a bed. “We aren’t the only ones haunted by what we’ve done.” 

Reaching down, Clarke grasped the hand holding her against him. 

She moved her pitiful amount of belongings into Bellamy’s tent the next day after Monty voiced what she had been considering for a few days now. It just made more sense to share and this way they could free up a tent for someone else. Those were the excuses she gave Bellamy and anyone else that asked about it. They didn’t have to know how much she like the feeling of his hands in her hair, on her back, tracing constellations into the skin on her hip. Clarke didn’t even let herself think too hard about it. She just liked the comfort it provided, the knowledge that he was there and alive and safe. 

*** 

“It’s time, Bellamy,” Clarke said softly, watching the man in front of her trying to stall a little bit longer by scraping dirt off his boots. 

Bellamy sighed heavily, slipped on his shoes, and stared up at her for a moment. Pain and frustration were painted across his features making Clarke want to drag him back into their bed and just hold him close for a while. Finally he nodded, like he had managed to convince himself it really was time, and stood up. Following closely behind him, Clarke watched the heavy line of his shoulders as they walked up to the main gates of Arkadia. Just a couple days ago he had finally been able to relax a bit after returning successful from the last nuclear reactor they were able to shut down. Clarke had seen him truly smile for the first time in what felt like forever then. That small miracle had withered and died just hours later, however, when Octavia announced her intentions to return to Luna. That night he had held her especially close, face buried in her neck and his frame heavy where it rested slightly on top of her. In public, Bellamy had been holding himself together well, but Clarke knew him better. She could see how much Octavia’s impending departure frightened Bellamy. For the past two months she had been acutely aware of how much Octavia’s detachment pained him, how the distance between the siblings simply amplified everything else weighing down on Bellamy’s back. 

A small crowd had already gathered at the gate. It was mostly just their friends from back at the drop ship, at least those who had survived until now. Octavia made her way through the group, hugging Monty and Jasper and Harper and even Murphy. The whole time Bellamy kept his gaze fixed on the ground, as if he was steeling himself for the inevitable. Clarke reached out and grabbed his hand, absentmindedly running her fingers across his knuckles. 

“She’ll be okay, Bellamy,” she whispered softly. “This is her choice, this isn’t on you.”

Clarke was well aware of how much Bellamy still blamed himself for the falling out between him and his sister. She had lost track of the amount of times he had woken them both up in the middle of the night, jerking out of a nightmare with Lincoln or Octavia’s name on his lips. On nights like that, Clarke always ended up tracing the scar on his cheek, murmuring to him about forgiveness and learning from mistakes. It was a little ironic really, the way she so easily spoke of forgiveness but still wasn’t able to forgive Octavia for taking out her rage on her brother; for taking advantage of the way he was brought up constantly sacrificing his needs for his sister’s. 

Clarke knew it was a bit hypocritical, speaking to him of forgiveness for his actions but finding it hard to forgive Octavia’s. But when it came to Bellamy’s wellbeing she was pitifully biased. 

Finally, Octavia reached her brother. Clarke watched, a little wary, as the siblings stared at each other for a long moment. Bellamy was the first to break the stalemate, reaching out and pulling Octavia towards him. He hugged her desperately and when he pulled away he took a minute to just look at her, as if trying to memorize her face. 

“Please, be careful, O.”

“I will.” 

“And if you ever need to come back-”

“Bellamy-“ 

“Please, Octavia,” Bellamy begged, cutting off her protests. “Come back if you need to.” 

After a pause the brunette nodded, refusing to meet her brother’s eyes. 

“I love you, big brother.” 

“I love you too, O.”

“Be safe.” 

“You too.” 

Octavia turned to Clarke; her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Things had been tense between the two women recently, but there was too much history and residual affection to ignore. The younger Blake pulled Clarke into a hug. 

“Watch out for him, Clarke,” Octavia murmured quietly in Clarke’s ear before pulling away. 

Clarke nodded in silent understanding. “May we meet again.” 

“May we meet again,” Octavia repeated, her eyes shifting back over to her brother. 

They smiled at each other, more sad than happy with tears now evident on both their faces, before Octavia finally turned and began to walk towards the tree line. 

As soon as she disappeared Bellamy lost his carefully crafted control and Clarke didn’t hesitate a second before pulling him into her. She felt his hands clutch at her and held his head against her shoulder, his tears wetting her shirt. It made her heart ache to watch him fall apart like this. As the others who had gathered to send Octavia off slowly dispersed, Clarke stayed put and simply held Bellamy. She ran her fingers through his hair, mimicking the way he calmed her down after a nightmare, and whispered sweet nothings and little white lies about how they would see Octavia again in his ear. 

In recent weeks Bellamy had finally started to truly recover. His hand didn’t shake so much anymore, only when he was really stressed, and he hadn’t had a panic attack in a few weeks now. The progress he had made since those first days after they stopped ALIE warmed Clarke’s heart and the last thing she wanted was for Bellamy to sink back into the darkness now that they were finally safe. 

He shifted in her arms and whispered, “I’m okay,” against her neck as if he could read her thoughts. “I’m going to be okay.” 

Clarke pulled away, eyes scanning his face. Bellamy brushed a few, straggling tears away. 

“She’s her own person and if this is what she needs…” his voice trailed off as he gazed into the woods where Octavia had disappeared. 

Reaching out, Clarke squeezed his hand. “We’ll work through it, together.” 

He looked back at her, offering a small, watery smile. “You’re my best friend, you know that?” 

Clarke felt herself blush and was, quite frankly, annoyed his words caused her body to react like that. It wasn’t like he hadn’t told her that before. 

“I know. Come on, old man, time to go to work.” 

***

Clarke hadn’t been lying to Raven when she said she hadn’t thought about partnering up for the cabins, not really. Yes, to be fair she had immediately thought of Bellamy when it was announced everyone would pair up, but then she also realized this was the perfect opportunity to finally force herself to let him have his own bed and his own space. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to live with him; she just knew how it probably looked to everyone else and wasn’t sure if he was interested in continuing their current arrangement. Her initial strategy had been to see if he would ask her first. When he didn’t, Clarke let the matter drop and hadn’t really considered it much until this morning when Kane asked her who she had picked. 

Now it all seemed pretty stupid really. Raven had good points. The arrangement was only until the spring when anyone who wanted his or her own cabin would have the chance to build one. Besides, she and Bellamy were still co-leading and it would be easier for others to find them if they lived in once place. 

Clarke’s mind drifted back to what Raven had said about the camp’s alleged running bet on her and Bellamy and dug her nails into her palms. It did make her think though. While she helped Jackson and her mother manage the various people who came into the medical tent with cuts and bruises and the occasional broken bone from the camp’s ambitious construction project, Clarke’s mind was churning. It wasn’t like she hadn’t heard others joking or seen the looks people sometimes gave her and Bellamy. Murphy certainly didn’t keep his mouth shut about his assumptions. For some reason it had never really bothered her before, though. She was able to just brush it off, confident in her knowledge of what she and Bellamy shared. 

But now? Now she wasn’t so sure. 

Yes, Bellamy was her best friend, but Raven was her best friend too. She didn’t seek out excuses to touch Raven, though. She didn’t spend every night in Raven’s arms. She didn’t find her eyes drifting over Raven’s body on a hot summer day, well, not as often as they did over Bellamy’s. 

Living with Raven would be a temporary arrangement, but living with Bellamy wouldn’t be and she knew it. 

Clarke felt her face heat up as the realization hit her. 

“Clarke? Are you all right?” 

Startled, she looked up at Jackson who was holding up Olive, a fifteen-year-old girl from Farm Station. “Yeah, sorry. I’m just a little tired today,” Clarke lied, refocusing on bracing the girl’s twisted ankle. 

She didn’t see Bellamy until well after dark. It had been that way for the past couple weeks as they settled into their new camp by the ocean. He was busy directing and helping with construction while Clarke stayed holed up in medical. Occasionally Clarke would pass him on her way to get water or check on a past patient. They would wave and smile at each other and Clarke would try to ignore the way her mouth went dry at the sight of his naked, sweaty chest. Sometimes he came into medical too, usually with a cut or some other injury, sometimes helping to carry other people in. Clarke always took her time with him, even if his injury wasn’t serious at all and really didn’t even warrant a trip to the medical tent. They always found each other at night though, whispering about their day by the light of a candle before curling around each other and chasing sleep. It was becoming a familiar pattern after nearly a month. 

Bellamy was especially late tonight since he had the first shift of night guard duty. Clarke was already in bed when she heard him cursing while trying to take his boots off in the inky darkness. 

“You can light a candle you know, I’m awake.” 

“Shit, I didn’t wake you up did I?” 

“No,” Clarke replied. She never did manage to fall asleep without him now and to be honest it was a little embarrassing. “How was your day?” 

Bellamy stumbled into bed, pulling the covers over both of them despite the July heat. Clarke groaned in annoyance at his ridiculous need for extra warmth even as she let him pull her onto his chest. “This is why we wake up so sweaty, Bellamy.” 

She was grateful for the dark, which masked the way she flushed at the double meaning of those words. 

Rather than responding to her complaints, Bellamy just tugged on her short hair. It was one of his favorite things to do since cutting it a couple weeks back. “My day was fine, we finished Murphy and Emori’s cabin so we are just about halfway done with residences now. We’re all set to lay the foundation for the medical structure you’ll be happy to hear.” 

Clarke was silent, his comments reminding her of her conversation with Raven that morning. 

“How about your day?” 

She shifted slightly so that she could look up at Bellamy’s face, though in the darkness she could just barely make out the glint of his eyes. “Not bad. No horrific injuries, which is always nice.” After a pause she added, “I talked to Raven this morning.” 

“You talk to Raven every day, that’s hardly news.”

Clarke rolled her eyes at his tart response. “I asked her to bunk with me.” 

She felt Bellamy’s hand suddenly still where it had been idly tracing designs on her back. “What?” 

“Kane asked me who I was living with this morning and I realized I still didn’t know so I asked her if she wanted to room together.” 

“And?” His voice was a little clipped making Clarke knit her brow in concern. 

“She’s already living with Caroline.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

A silent beat passed between them. Cricket songs and the distant crashing of waves filled the tent. 

“I kind of thought that we would share a cabin.” 

Clarke pushed up until she was sitting next to Bellamy, squinting in the dark to try and read his expression better. “You did? Why didn’t you ask me?” 

The blankets rustled as he moved to sit up as well. “I mean, I just figured since we are already basically living together I didn’t need to ask or anything. Do you not want to? I won’t be offended, Clarke. I get it if you need space and- ” 

“No, no,” she said hastily. “No, I do want to live together. I just didn’t want to push you because, well, I sort of forced myself into your tent back in Arkadia and I wasn’t sure if you wanted to use this chance to have your own-”

“Clarke, you did not force yourself into my tent, I fully enabled that.”

“Yeah but, I don’t know, I just didn’t want to push you too much. I figured I would wait and see if you asked me and when you didn’t I just assumed that meant you had found someone else.” 

She didn’t mention how she sometimes thought back to the drop ship and the steady stream of women that came and went from his tent; how she sometimes wondered if he resented how she shared his bed and kept him from being with other women. 

“Well, for the record, would you like to share a cabin?”

Clarke bit her lip to hide a smile Bellamy wouldn’t even be able to see in the darkness. “I suppose, just because you asked so nicely and I have nobody else.” 

With an indignant huff, Bellamy pushed her back onto the cot and pinched her side, his hand immediately smoothing over the spot a second later. “Why are you so difficult?” 

“It’s probably from spending too much time with a jackass like you.” 

She tried to flick his chin but ended up awkwardly jabbing his nose, causing him to sneeze. Bellamy laughed at her surprised shriek. “That’s what you get for hitting my nose.” 

Clarke scoffed at him and tried to protest that it was an accident but Bellamy wrapped his arms tightly around her and buried his nose against her collarbone causing the words in Clarke’s throat to dry up. 

“I can’t believe you thought I wanted to get rid of you,” Bellamy muttered into her skin. 

Clarke did feel a little ridiculous for thinking that now. She ran her fingers through his soft curls and grinned stupidly up at the ceiling. “Shut up and go to sleep.” 

Their cabin ended up being the last one finished because, being Bellamy and Clarke, they put everyone else before themselves. 

“Home sweet home,” Bellamy stated dramatically as they crossed the threshold for the first time. 

Smiling up at him, Clarke couldn’t help but think that this cabin wasn’t home. Not really. Home was wherever Bellamy was. Regardless of whether there was a roof over their heads or a warm bed to sleep in, as long as she had him by her side she was already home.

*** 

Clarke hadn’t even wanted Bellamy to go in the first place. The night before he left, they had a huge, blowout argument over it; possibly their largest since last summer when Clarke had waded out too far in the ocean and nearly drowned thanks to an under current. Bellamy had berated her for hours until Clarke snapped back ferociously and they didn’t talk for a couple days. 

It was a dangerous trip into unknown territory that Clarke argued was entirely unnecessary. They already had enough clans to trade with; there was no need to go looking for more. They already had enough food from their farms, the woods to the north, and the nearby ocean. She tried to at least reason that anyone else could go; it didn’t have to be Bellamy leading the weeklong trip. Bellamy, however, was just as determined to leave as she was to make him stay. 

As a result, he slept on the floor, taking the blankets with him, and when she woke up to him shuffling around their small, one room cabin Clarke pretended to still be asleep. The guilt began to settle in when she felt him softly kiss her forehead and brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear before leaving. By the time she forced herself out of bed and realized he really was gone, it was fully established in her chest. 

The whole reason she had been so angry about Bellamy leaving in the first place was because she was so terrified of losing him and rather than taking the time to explain that, to say a true goodbye just in case, they had parted in anger. 

Now, two weeks later, as the settlement set about cleaning up the hurricane’s damage Clarke was absolutely furious with herself. For all she knew he was dead and the last words she had ever spoken to Bellamy were full of misplaced rage. Clarke was convinced her own inability to articulate her feelings and just how much Bellamy meant to her would haunt her forever. 

“Clarke, honey, please eat some of the lunch Marcus brought.” 

Clarke turned around to see her mother holding out a tray of grilled fish and a chunk of the settlement’s hearty bread that always seemed to have sand in it. She could see Kane watching her with worried eyes over her mother’s shoulder. 

“I’m not hungry, Mom,” she sighed, returning to the medical jars she was organizing for what had to be the third time that week. 

“It won’t help anything to starve yourself, Clarke. I know you are worried, we all are, but-”

“Maybe if you had let me lead that rescue mission,” Clarke began, anger swelling in her gut. 

“It would have been a suicide mission and you know it.”

Biting her lip, Clarke leaned against the shelves in front of her. Tears welled in her eyes. 

“Mom, what if he doesn’t come back?” Her voice was small, terrified. She hadn’t dared to speak those words out loud before, as if they would make her worse fears come true just by being voiced. 

Abby rested her hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “Oh, Clarke. He will, you’ll see.” 

Clarke’s chest suddenly heaved with a long overdue sob at her mother’s hollow promise. Turning into the older woman’s embrace, Clarke let all the fears and regret that had been building over the past two weeks break free. Abby ran her hands over Clarke’s hair and back to try and soothe her but all it did was make her think about how differently Bellamy did the same thing. 

“I didn’t even say goodbye,” she choked out between sobs. “We fought all night because I didn’t want him to go and I didn’t tell him goodbye.”

Abby brushed away the mess of tears and snot on Clarke’s face, trying to calm her down. “Clarke, just breathe, okay? It’s alright, I’m sure he knows how much you care.”

“What if he dies out there thinking I hate him?” 

“Sweetheart, he knows you don’t hate him.” Clarke let her mom pull her back into her arms and tried to focus on the tune Abby was softly humming. It was the lullaby her mother use to sing to her on the Ark. “Just calm down, it will be alright, Clarke.” 

Half an hour later, Abby managed to convince Clarke to eat the small amount of food Kane had brought earlier. It was cold, but it didn’t really matter to Clarke. She didn’t really taste anything anyways. 

Clarke was back in medical two days later when a familiar horn blast made her heart pound in her chest. Fear and excitement bubbled in her gut as she raced outside, pushing her way through the gathering crowd until she finally locked her eyes on a familiar set of sturdy shoulders, head of messy, inky curls, and dark eyes. 

She breathed out his name before striding forward. He did the same across from her and as soon as they met Clarke pulled him as close to her as she possibly could. She pressed her face against the skin of his neck, breathing in the smell of sweat and blood and dirt and the ocean; her hands clutched at his shoulders as if she could some how bring him even closer to her. 

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, eyes shut tight so it felt like all that existed in the world was Bellamy Blake. 

“Me too.” His chapped lips brushed against the sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder causing Clarke to shiver in his arms. Suddenly it was all too much for Clarke and she somehow pulled away but moved closer at the same time, as a result her cheek brushed against Bellamy’s, the scrape of his stubble against her skin making warmth pool in her belly. Before she knew it, Clarke was pushing up on her feet and angling her head just as Bellamy moved a fraction of an inch downward, his eyes fixed on her mouth. 

Just before their lips met, Clarke felt panic racing through her body and stopped. Bellamy mimicked her, breathing a sigh into her slightly opened mouth. Swallowing thickly, Clarke fell back on her heels but before she could get very far, Bellamy cupped her cheeks and pressed a hard kiss to her forehead. Clarke leaned into him, closing her eyes as relief spread through her body. He was back; he was safe. 

When Bellamy finally pulled away after a long moment, Clarke turned her head just enough to press a kiss to the pulse point of his wrist. Her eyes didn’t leave his, watching as something heavy flickered across his face. 

Later, she tended to his injuries, a few minor cuts and bruises plus a sprained shoulder, while her mother took care of Francis. As Clarke washed the blood off Bellamy’s face and hands and carefully tended to his small wounds he explained his delay. The day before the hurricane hit, Francis had a nasty run in with a boar. On the way back to the settlement the hurricane made their lives a living hell. When she was done fussing over him and he was done talking, Clarke grabbed his hand and led him back to their home. 

Just as she was preparing to heat up some food for him, Bellamy grabbed her hand. “Clarke, the things I said about you not trusting me, about you trying to control me, that was all bullshit. I was scared about leaving and frustrated with you, but I didn’t mean any of it.” 

Clarke squeezed his hand. “I didn’t mean any of what I said either, Bellamy. You aren’t selfish. I was so afraid that you wouldn’t come back and I just… It was easier to lash out at you but I shouldn’t have done it.” 

Pulling her in by their linked hands, Bellamy wrapped his arms around her. 

That night they sat on their front steps watching the fireflies dance as they ate dinner. Bellamy told Clarke some dumb story about him heckling his history teacher back on the Ark and she laughed at his antics, unable to wipe the grin off her face as she leaned into his warmth despite the sticky summer air. 

If the past two weeks had shown Clarke anything, it was how deeply intertwined Bellamy was with her happiness. She had always known she needed him, not just as her political partner, but also as her friend. Over the past two years, however, that had grown into something else. After the darkness of their first year on the ground, Clarke had depended on Bellamy to pull her back into the light and he had depended on her for the same reason. Clarke’s nightmares and self-destructive tendencies all faded as she and Bellamy got closer. His tremor and anxiety attacks were a distant memory now too. They still had bad days and there were some nights when one of them would wake in a frantic panic. Bellamy still struggled with certain triggers and Clarke sometimes fell into self-destructive thoughts, but they had each other to guide them through those tough times. 

More and more, they found themselves like this. Laughing on their front steps, enjoying each other’s warmth, and focusing on all that was good in their lives, not all their mistakes. 

When they crawled into bed an hour later, Clarke didn’t have the heart to make a snide comment when Bellamy pulled the heavy blankets over them and even held him a little tighter despite the hot night. She didn’t know what she had done in a past life to deserve Bellamy Blake, but she was determined to never take his presence for granted again. 

*** 

They had been planning the winter solstice celebration for weeks when the first grounders arrived. It was a traditional event among local clans that always culminated in the renewal of peace treaties. Somehow, the Sky People had been chosen to host this year and preparation had been a bitch. 

Extra food and alcohol had to be procured, accommodations for guests had to be arranged, and huge amounts of firewood had to be gathered. It was the settlement’s biggest project since they built their original structures that first summer by the sea. It was so hectic that Bellamy and Clarke saw little of each other in the weeks leading up to the event, Bellamy was in charge of executing their plans while Clarke focused on organization. 

By the time Clarke spotted Bellamy by the grain house on the night of the solstice, she was more than ready to start drinking the mulled wine that was being passed around. 

“Hey,” she said as she approached Bellamy’s sturdy form. He yanked his eyes away from watching the throngs of people dancing by the bonfire and smiled at her. His grin was wide and carefree, a rare but incredibly good look on him.

“Hey,” Bellamy parroted, patting the wall behind him in invitation. Clarke leaned against the cold wood close enough to Bellamy that their arms brushed. “We did it.” 

“Its not over yet,” Clarke murmured a little sullenly. 

Bellamy bumped her arm. “All that’s left is the treaties and there is no reason that won’t go well. Look around; everyone is having a good time. We pulled it off.” 

“I’m amazed it was enough food.” 

“I’m amazed there is still alcohol left.”

Clarke chuckled, watching Jackson drunkenly try to play one of the grounder drums as its amused owner looked on. “There won’t be for long I imagine, if we want a drink we need to act fast.” 

Neither of them made any move to leave. 

“I’m surprised you aren’t out there dancing with the others,” Bellamy joked. 

Clarke rolled her eyes and poked his shoulder. “You know me, I don’t like to have fun.” 

Bellamy laughed loudly and the sound made Clarke tingle right down to her toes. They fell into a comfortable silence, leaning against each other more than the wall behind them. At this point, Clarke knew better than to tell herself it was for warmth. She gazed out at the scene before her. People were smiling and laughing, Sky People dancing hand in hand with grounders to local songs that had become familiar over the years. She remembered when a scene like this had seemed impossible. When happiness itself seemed like the most elusive thing in the world. It amazed her how far they had come. 

Clarke was suddenly overwhelmed with utter joy; pure and sweet and so very freeing. This scene, her people happy and at peace, the warm light of the fire reflecting off the snow, and most of the man next to her made all those sacrifices, all that sorrow somehow worth it. This was what they had been fighting for all along. 

“You know, I’m pretty sure that Monty is keeping some moonshine hidden so if all else fails we can just-”

Not waiting to let Bellamy finish, Clarke surged up on her toes and kissed him softly. She felt Bellamy freeze beneath her fingers where they rested on his shoulders. For one, terrible, excruciating moment Clarke thought she had misjudged everything; the way he held her at night, his recent affinity for kissing her cheek at random points in the day, the look on his face when he walked in on her topless a couple weeks back. 

All doubt was immediately sent up in embers when Bellamy clutched Clarke’s face and kissed her back desperately, his tongue sweeping over her bottom lip. She opened up under him, changing the angle so she could kiss him deeper and clutched at his jacket to pull him closer. His hands were everywhere, her hair, her hips, her face, her stomach. She let hers tangle in his hair and scratch down his back, finally settling them on the nape of his neck. When they eventually broke apart it was only far enough that they could rest their foreheads against each other. Both were breathless and Clarke couldn’t stop the stupid grin that crawled across her face. 

“I love you,” Bellamy breathed out and Clarke felt the words warm her lips. 

“I love you too,” she whispered back, opening her eyes just in time to see the huge smile on Bellamy’s face. 

“Want to go find Monty’s missing moonshine?” 

Clarke laughed and kissed Bellamy again, slower this time, less feverish. When they parted she held him close but turned her head to look back out over the festive scene. “Yeah,” she murmured against the warmth of Bellamy’s neck. “I think we deserve a drink.” 

Unsurprisingly, life got in the way. A couple people needed medical attention and one of their people needed help getting home and someone needed to go get more firewood. But finally, an hour later, Bellamy and Clarke managed to get away. They didn’t find Monty’s moonshine, but they didn’t look to hard for it either. In fact, they basically scrapped that plan all together in favor of scrambling back to their cabin giggling like foolish teenagers and falling into bed together. 

After, when the music had died down outside and the fire in their hearth was burning low, Bellamy traced familiar constellations in the bare skin on Clarke’s stomach. She laid on her back, watching him with a smile and played with his hair while he lay on his stomach next to her, the furs that lined their bed just covering the lower halves of their bodies. 

“Happy winter solstice,” Clarke murmured. 

Bellamy smiled up at her. “I’m pretty sure its over now.”

“And everyone says I’m the killjoy.” 

Bellamy smirked wolfishly and crawled on top of her, peppering kisses up her chest while Clarke laughed, happier than she could ever remember being before. 

The next night found them in a similar position, not that Clarke was complaining at all. Bellamy was on top of her, breathing hard, hands still grasping the fur beneath them desperately. Under him, Clarke held Bellamy close and dropped a kiss to the base of his sweaty neck. When he rolled off her and onto his back, Clarke’s eyes followed and mimicked the grin she found on his face. 

“Miller blackmailed me this morning,” Bellamy said, his voice a little hoarse, still short of breath. 

Clarke hummed in question as she slung an elbow over her eyes in exhaustion. 

“He saw us kiss last night, by the bonfire. He’s trying to pressure us into keeping quiet about that development.” 

Laughing, Clarke rolled over to lay her head against Bellamy’s chest. “Please tell me this doesn’t have to do with the dumbass bet they all have.” 

“Apparently Bryan bet a chicken on us ‘figuring our shit out’ after a boating accident in the spring.” 

“People are getting that specific?” 

Bellamy chuckled and tugged her closer. “I’m not sure if you realize this, Clarke, but we are kind of a big deal.” 

She rolled her eyes. “I’m glad you haven’t let this dumb bet go to your head.” Instead of answering Bellamy kissed her softly. “So, what does Miller want,” Clarke asked when they came up for air. 

“He wants us to help him win the bet.”

“So we keep quiet until spring when we happen to have a boating accident?” 

“Exactly.”

“And what’s in it for us?” 

“Sheesh, Clarke,” Bellamy shook his head melodramatically. “We can’t help our own friends out?” 

“Our friends who are blackmailing us?” 

“Think of it this way.” Holding her in place, Bellamy flipped them over so his weight pressed her into the bed. He pressed kisses down her neck between words. “We get to say a big fuck you to everyone who has been making bets on our personal life.” 

“Well, when you put it that way I suppose we could manage.” 

Bellamy surged back up and kissed her soundly. “I’m glad we’re in agreement.” 

It was in the months leading up to the spring that Clarke finally realized how obvious she and Bellamy had always been about their feelings. They certainly were not very good at hiding their relationship, but nobody else seemed to notice that. The touches they shared that neither one of them considered casual appeared normal to everyone else. After years of very non-platonic interactions excused as platonic, nobody could differentiate when it came to Bellamy and Clarke, except Bellamy and Clarke. 

“Were we really that blind?” she asked Bellamy one night over dinner. 

“No,” he replied. “We just weren’t ready to accept what we both knew.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it :) 
> 
> The third installment from Bellamy's point of view should be published this week.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: simonettabetta.tumblr.com


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